


It’s the rose that reminds me of you

by middlemarch



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Folk Music, Marriage, Romance, Sleeping Together, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: It was late, an hour of night Ross usually faced alone.
Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	It’s the rose that reminds me of you

“What’s the matter, love?” Ross asked. Demelza most often fell to sleep in his arms in an instant; she’d be up with the sun, up for an hour before she brought him a cup of tea in their bed, and she wasn’t restless in the night, even when she slept with her cheek against his heart’s steady beat. Tonight, there was no storm coming, nothing but the dim moonlight of a waning crescent, but he felt her awake, however still she tried to be.

“I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. Couldn’t say why, afore you ask, Ross,” she answered. He stroked a finger across the apple of her cheek, caught her full lower lip. She was always lovely, but somehow, she was so much lovelier at midnight, when the silvery gleam through the curtains seemed to make her bold, her hands unerring. He shifted, thinking to kiss her, make her giddy first and then demanding, her muslin night-rail light enough to be thrown off without the least effort. The moment before his lips met hers, she spoke.

“I want you to sing to me,” she said, so low he might have imagined it. Her eyes though, he could never have imagined how blue they could be, how he could feel the song in his throat as he opened his mouth, his hands holding her close. She sang all the live-long day, at her work and at her leisure and he knew that when the babies came, she would sing to his sons and daughters in the same rich contralto. “Please, Ross, won’t you?”

“ _You're fair as the spring, oh my darling/ Your face shines so bright, so divine/ The fairest of blooms in my garden/ Oh lily white rose, you are mine…_ ”

He hadn’t sung it in so many years, since he’d gone across the sea and the words had only meant Elizabeth and now, they could only mean Demelza, beautiful Demelza who could not settle in his arms, who hummed as he sang the verses and the chorus, letting the lyrics turn round and a little rough with the accent of the men in the mines, of the waves on the shore. He felt her settle nearer to him, her hand laid against his heart, warm, her skin finer than any China silk. 

“Now ‘An Awhesyth,’ Ross. Please?” 

She asked with her lips a breath away from his mouth, the nearest thing to a kiss; she never asked for anything, so he sang. He sang the whole song through and when he sang _Muy lowen yu'n tus ma es myghtern po'n gos ughel_ , Demelza caught the last word as it left him, her kiss sweet, sleepy, sated. His.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the traditional Cornish folk song "The White Rose." The ling that Ross sings in Cornish translates to "She is far more enticing than the birds all in the air" from the Cornish folk song "An Awhesyth" which means "The Lark."
> 
> This was written at the request of an anon on Tumblr who wanted some fluffy for Poldark. I chose "I want you to sing to me" from a list of fluff prompts. It's a pretty grim time world-wide, so I tried to oblige with something sweet and light in the dark.


End file.
